


Broken Trust

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the rescue team arrives too late on Hathor’s planet, the members of SG-1 must deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to write this particular story for a long time, but it wasn’t until recently that I finally figured out the way I could make it work. Many thanks to Wendy for her help and encouragement. For Linz.
> 
> Originally posted December 2005.

BROKEN TRUST

 

In spite of the seeming futility, Sam continued to work on the door’s locking mechanism. Her initial hope of finding that they were shut in a room with an accessible panel diminished the longer she continued to work without any success. She glanced over at Daniel, who sat on the floor slumped against the wall. She was worried about him, he’d seemed to disappear into his own little world since that moment when they’d heard Jack’s scream as the Goa’uld entered him. She hadn’t been able to see Jack, but she didn’t need to, to imagine the look of terror on his face. 

 

The churning anxiety in her gut was almost intolerable and she felt like she was hanging on by a mere thread. It was like all her worst nightmares had come true, captured by a Goa’uld with no hope of rescue and the Colonel taken as a host. Hell, she and Daniel were probably destined for that fate sooner or later, unless Hathor decided to amuse herself by killing or torturing them—or both. She had to get them out of here; both Daniel and the Colonel were depending on her. 

 

If he was still the Colonel…she took a shaky breath. Even without a watch, she knew they had been held in this room for at least three hours, more than enough time for the Goa’uld to have taken control of O’Neill. He was strong, she kept reminding herself, black ops trained, if anyone could beat the control of a goa’uld, he could. Because if he hadn’t, the alternative was too horrifying to even contemplate. 

 

Returning to her task, something suddenly gave beneath her fingers and she felt a wild flare of hope when the door whooshed open, which died instantly when four heavily armed Jaffa appeared in the doorway. Sam dropped her hands and retreated from the panel.

 

“Tal’shak!” The lead one growled and gestured with his staff weapon. Sam looked anxiously at Daniel, but he nodded, his eyes still lifeless, and slowly rose to his feet; she followed him out into the hallway. They were immediately surrounded by the four guards and even as she weighed her chances of even disarming one of them, she quickly dismissed the idea. She wasn’t sure she could rely on Daniel and there was no way she could take on all four by herself; she prayed a better opportunity would arise where they could escape.

 

The guards led them deeper and deeper into the pyramid, the architecture and furnishing becoming more and more ornate. They stopped at the end of the long corridor; an elaborately decorated door opened and the two guards in front of them stepped to the side, while the two behind them shoved them unceremoniously into the room. Daniel stumbled, but Sam caught his arm and steadied him, her eyes rapidly scanned their surroundings as they walked slowly into the cavernous room.

 

It was obvious that they were in Hathor’s throne room, if that’s what the Goa’uld called their ceremonial chambers. The heavy scent of incense filled the room; several gold braziers were going, the light smoke emanating from them burning her eyes. In front of them was a large dais with a highly carved, low wooden bench. A pergola draped with red and gold brocade cloth was the only backdrop on the dais.

 

One of the Jaffa behind them poked her in the back with his staff weapon and she automatically dropped to her knees. Daniel did too, they both knew the drill. The marble floor was hard and cold, what little warmth she had left seeping out as they were forced to wait. After what seemed an interminable time, several dozen Jaffa emerged from behind the dais. Sam immediately spotted Raleigh and Trofsky in their midst; Raleigh still in her medical whites while Trofsky had abandoned his faux-SGC uniform and now wore a long brown robe, complete with armor. 

 

When Hathor emerged moments later, the only thing missing was a fanfare, Sam decided acidly. The Goa’uld Queen had changed into a different gown, the flowing gowns and robe draped provocatively around her, complete with an elaborate headdress. And then Sam almost gasped aloud when the figure behind Hathor emerged from the shadows and offered her his arm. It was the Colonel. Sam felt a huge flood of relief that he wasn’t dead. But that relief was short-lived; the cold, arrogant look on his face forcibly reminded her that though he might look like Jack O’Neill, he wasn’t.

 

She watched helplessly and silently whispered, “Sir.” Superficially he looked the same, his hair, his face, his eyes…she shivered, already filled with dread at the moment when they would glow. He had changed—or been dressed—and now wore garb similar to Trofsky, though his seemed more ornate, probably as befitted Hathor’s consort. And as expected, he was solicitous and attentive to Hathor; her hand resting lightly on his arm while he escorted her to the padded bench and then stood ready at her side. Sam kept her eyes on him, desperate for any indication or sign in those dark brown eyes that the Colonel was still in there.

 

“He’s not there.”

 

Sam’s head jerked towards Daniel, who hadn’t moved but still stared straight ahead. “Who?” she whispered urgently.

 

“Jack,” he replied.

 

“He’s strong—“ Her whispered words broke off in a gasp of pain when one of the Jaffa guards poked her in the ribs with his staff weapon. One quick look at his face, which told her he’d sooner kill her, quickly shut her up; the duo on the dais apparently oblivious to the interchange. She didn’t have to wait long though, for Hathor to turn her attention to her captives. Though the Goa’uld didn’t say a word, Sam knew her attention was focused on her and Daniel with a single-minded determination. Her dark eyes were cold and filled with amusement when she finally looked down at them. 

 

“Jareth,” she drawled, casually lifting one finely manicured hand toward O’Neill. “To whom does your loyalty lie?”

 

O’Neill responded immediately and took Hathor’s hand, kneeling with elegant grace in front of her and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. “To my Queen Hathor.” Sam winced at the sound of his deep, reverberating voice.

 

“Prove your loyalty, Jareth.”

 

Sam’s eyes closed for the briefest moment, the pain searing through her soul at the flash of light that flared in O’Neill’s eyes when he stood and looked out at them. Nausea churned in her stomach as he stepped off the dais and strode purposefully toward them. The Jaffa behind her roughly grabbed her elbow, hauling her to her feet. She staggered and O’Neill’s hand reached out to steady her and for a moment hope flared within her. But then she saw his eyes, dark and unfeeling, and all hope fled.

 

His hand remained on her arm; Sam didn’t know if he thought she would try to attack him or to flee. Even without a Goa’uld to give him additional strength, she would have been lucky to overpower O’Neill in hand-to-hand combat. She didn’t struggle; her only chance lay in reaching what was left of the Colonel, deep in the recesses of the Goa’uld’s control. She knew he was in there and she prayed she’d be able to reach him.

 

“Sir,” she whispered, meeting his eyes and searching their cold depths for any flicker of recognition or acknowledgement. 

 

Something flared briefly in his eyes and she felt a surge of hope, but then his lips curved in a mockery of his usual smile. “He is not able to help you,” the Goa’uld rumbled. The hand on her arm loosened fractionally, his thumb rubbing lightly through the material of her borrowed white jacket. Those familiar brown eyes, now so foreign to her, narrowed slightly as if in thought, and the Goa’uld laughed abruptly. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear. “It causes him great pain that he cannot help the woman he loves.”

 

Sam’s knees gave out at the Goa’uld’s callous announcement and she would have fallen if he hadn’t moved quickly and wrapped a strong arm around her. Somehow it made what was about to happen easier to bear, knowing that he loved her. Of course, the Goa’uld could have been lying, but to what end? She knew instinctively that it was true, had sensed its presence slowly developing over time, but had been the good soldier and ignored it. She wanted to tell him that she understood, that she wouldn’t blame him for what was about to happen, but refused to give the Goa’uld the satisfaction.

 

The arm around her tightened and he shifted, turning her slightly while continuing to hold her pressed tightly against his hard body. His free hand moved in a light caress up over her chest before pressing lightly against her throat until she had no choice but to let her head fall back against his shoulder. The Goa’uld intended to kill her in a perverse parody of a lover’s embrace and Sam fought down the hysteria that welled within her. Remaining rigid in his arms, she controlled the revulsion she felt when his fingers lightly caressed her throat, but she couldn’t suppress the small sob when cold lips met hers in a hard kiss.

 

“Jareth! Get on with it!” Sam didn’t need to see Hathor to know the woman was annoyed—and jealous—but she didn’t care as long as it meant the Goa’uld would stop his unwanted caresses. 

 

He didn’t stop right away, his lips lingering a few moments longer before lifting his head and murmuring, “As you wish, my Queen.” Sam almost felt sorry for Hathor, for while Jareth’s voice was humble and sincere, Sam could see the cold calculation and mockery in his eyes. But then all thoughts of Hathor fled when the hand at her throat tightened, strong fingers pressing inexorably into her soft flesh. She instinctively struggled, trying to grab for his hand but he merely laughed, easily stilling her struggles and pressing harder against her throat. It wouldn’t be long, she realized dimly, before he snapped her neck and crushed her trachea.

 

“Sir.” It was a breathless whisper, for she could already feel her consciousness fading as the Goa’uld systematically cut off the circulation to her brain. In her last moments of consciousness, Sam thought she saw a look of regret in the Colonel’s dark eyes and her soul wept.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Her soft body trembled against him; he could smell her fear and the faint hint of sandalwood. He was distantly aware of the arousal coursing through him—a product of her fear and the press of her firm body against his. She felt good against him; the pale skin of her neck was warm and soft beneath his hands, so fragile and delicate. It would hardly take any effort at all to snap her neck. He’d be quick and merciful; he at least owed her that. 

 

Jack struggled out of the depths of his nightmare, a chill that had nothing to do with the ambient room temperature filling him. It took too long for his heart to stop pounding and for him to remember where he was, the smooth, cool walls and basic pallet reminding him he was at the Tok’ra base. He groaned, burying his face in his hands, vainly trying to dispel that final image of Sam gasping her last breath, her final, plaintive ‘Sir’ still ringing in his ears. He had killed her. Never mind that he’d been under the control of a particularly cold and nasty snake, he hadn’t been strong enough to stop it and as a result, she was dead.

 

Sitting up, Jack slumped against the stone wall, tugging the thin blanket around him as if it would provide some protection from his memories. The Goa’uld had made sure he was totally aware of what was happening—and had taken great pleasure in the utter helplessness and rage that had filled him. Jack actually didn’t remember much after that point; the Goa’uld had let Sam’s lifeless body fall carelessly to the floor and that Daniel was to be next was obvious. But then a loud blast had sounded somewhere in the facility and the next thing he’d known, he had woken here at the Tok’ra base on Vorash. 

 

Dellan, the taciturn Tok’ra who appeared to be part doctor and part nurse and who tended to him, was exceptionally close-mouthed, even for a Tok’ra. Jack only knew the basics of his rescue—Makepeace and his marines had finally arrived and killed Hathor; only Daniel’s quick-thinking in momentarily disabling Jareth with a well-placed zat blast during the frenzy of the attack and his insistence that Jack be taken immediately to the Tok’ra had kept him alive. He was still fuzzy on the whole passage of time thing though. The most he could get out of Dellan was that they had been missing for over a month. And he’d been recuperating here at the Tok’ra base for two weeks—two weeks when he hadn’t seen anyone except for Dellan. 

 

And right now he really didn’t mind his isolation. Part of him still felt disconnected, like he was a passive observer of his life, at least what his life amounted to at this moment. He knew once he got back to the SGC, Fraiser would have him under constant observation. Unless of course the NID got their hands on him first and dissected his brain for what little information he could remember from the short-time he was a host. And then he’d be subjected to an endless barrage of psychological testing and counseling, all designed to help him recover from his ordeal. Only problem was, he wasn’t sure he could recover from this one—or if he even deserved to. 

 

“Colonel O’Neill.” Jack looked up at the sound of Dellan’s voice, the faint light from the hallway illuminating the lanky figure of the Tok’ra. “There is someone here to see you.” Dellan stepped aside and a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

 

“O’Neill.”

 

The light in the room flickered on and Jack sat up a little bit straighter. “Teal’c,” he gruffly acknowledged the Jaffa. 

 

“I have come to take you home.”

 

An uncomfortable mixture of unease and relief filled Jack. He’d be glad to leave the Tok’ra base, he just wasn’t so sure he was ready to go back to the SGC. “So, I’m cured?” he asked, directing his question to Dellan, who still stood in the doorway.

 

The Tok’ra nodded. “Your body systems have returned to normal. There is no more that we can do for you.”

 

Jack knew what Dellan hadn’t said—his body was back to normal but the Tok’ra weren’t going to tackle the job of fixing his psyche. He didn’t blame them. “Well,” he said, tossing the blanket aside. “What are we waiting for?” Standing up, Jack looked from Teal’c, who wore the customary green BDUs and then back to himself, garbed in nondescript Tok’ra beige. “You wouldn’t happen to have a change of clothes in your pack?”

 

Teal’c smiled and unclipped his backpack. “As a matter of fact, O’Neill, I do.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack lay back on the infirmary bed, doubling the pillow up under his head. He stared at the ceiling, dimly aware of the activity going on around him, beyond the confines of the curtains drawn around the corner of the room where he lay. To say he was confused would be an understatement. Everyone had been happy and relieved to see him. Daniel, Hammond, Fraiser, the usual gate room technicians and other personnel who had seen him in passing had all greeted him with warmth and enthusiasm. And not like someone who had killed one of their own.

 

And so far Fraiser hadn’t subjected him to anything too strenuous, apparently willing to accept the Tok’ra’s report of his health. Though he had still been subjected to an MRI. He wondered when they were going to ask him about the Goa’uld and Sam. He wondered what he would say.

 

“All right, Colonel.” The curtains twitched open and Fraiser stood there with her clipboard, smiling at him. “Your MRI is clear and you’re free to go. To the briefing room, that is. General Hammond called down and said you were to report there as soon as you were cleared.”

 

Jack sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Thanks, Doc.” He grabbed the BDU jacket off the foot of the bed. “Best not keep him waiting.” He was halfway to the door when she called him name.

 

“Colonel?” 

 

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. Her smile was gentle and not the least bit condemning. 

 

“It’s good to have you back, sir.”

 

He nodded, not sure what to say, guilt lay heavily on him, even if it seemed that no one at the SGC was going to condemn him. It was good to be back though, he thought, forgoing the elevators and taking the stairs down to Level Twenty-eight. The briefing room was empty, but he caught a glimpse of Hammond through the window into his office. 

 

Crossing the room he knocked on the half open door and then pushed it all the way open. “Reporting as ordered, sir,” he spoke in greeting, only then realizing someone else was in the room with Hammond.

 

“Jack! Sit down, son.”

 

To his credit and great relief, Jack didn’t faint, though he certainly felt like all the blood drained out of his head and into his feet when he saw Sam Carter sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of Hammond’s desk. He hoped his legs didn’t look as unsteady as they felt as he carefully took the few steps that brought him to the closest chair and right next to the woman he had killed.

 

“Carter,” he finally managed to croak when he found his voice. “What happened?” He took a shuddering breath. “I killed you.”

 

Blue eyes that had lit up with apparent joy when she first saw him darkened with concern. “Sir…didn’t anyone tell you?”

 

“Son…” Jack’s eyes flew to Hammond, the older man’s face full of sympathy and what looked suspiciously like understanding. “The timely arrival of Colonel Makepeace and his assault team allowed the Tok’ra agent, Raleigh, to place Captain Carter in the sarcophagus that Hathor had at the compound. I’m sorry, son.” Hammond exchanged a look with Carter. “We all just assumed that the Tok’ra had told you that Captain Carter had survived.”

 

What followed next was a blur. Jack knew he must’ve responded appropriately to Hammond, because the General carried on with the conversation as if everything was normal. But what they talked about Jack, had no idea. He could feel Carter’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look at her, he couldn’t look at her. He was holding on by a thread that would break completely if the initial concern he’d glimpsed in her eyes turned into fear or something worse…. Somehow he realized that the interview was over and he finally managed to escape. He only hoped that neither Hammond nor Carter had sensed the desperation of his departure.

 

Jack found himself standing in the locker room, not sure how he had gotten there, only realizing that his actions must’ve been on automatic since he’d left Hammond’s office. Of all the things that had transpired over the last month, the revelation that Carter was still alive had thrown him totally off-balance. Sinking down onto the nearby bench, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting off the memories that assaulted him—Carter’s eyes helplessly pleading with him, the feel of her body pressed up against his, the numbing despair when the Goa’uld had voiced the secret kept in his heart and then the utter rage that filled him when his hands started to tighten around her neck.

 

“O’Neill.”

 

Jack’s eyes flew open. Teal’c loomed over him—he hadn’t even heard the door open.

 

“Are you unwell?”

 

He really didn’t know how to answer that, his world had been tilted on edge yet again. The first time was when he’d woken up at the Tok’ra base with the Goa’uld gone and the knowledge that he’d killed her. And now again, when he discovered that through the miracle of Goa’uld technology, she had been returned to him. “Carter’s not dead.”

 

“Indeed.” Teal’c sat down on the bench next to him. “You do not appear to be pleased.”

 

Jack scrubbed his hand over his face. “Oh believe me, I’m pleased.” He looked sideways at Teal’c. “I was just surprised.”

 

Teal’c nodded, apparently satisfied. “As were we all, when Daniel Jackson and the Tok’ra agent informed us of what had occurred.”

 

“And it doesn’t bother anyone that I killed her?”

 

“You did not kill her, O’Neill. The goa’uld who had taken over your body killed her.”

 

“I should have been strong enough to fight it.”

 

“No one is strong enough to fight the possession of a goa’uld.”

 

“I’m not sure Carter will see it that way.”

 

“She is an able warrior and understands the risks we all take in our fight against the Goa’uld.”

 

“Maybe.” He doubted Teal’c would understand what really bothered him; he wasn’t even sure he did. His feelings regarding his beautiful captain were a tangled mess, but predominant now was fear. How could she ever trust him again when he had failed her so? 

 

Wanting to end the conversation, Jack stood and jerked his locker open, pulling out the leather jacket he’d left hanging there weeks earlier. “I’m going home,” was all he said, grabbing his wallet and car keys. If Teal’c wanted to say more, he didn’t, merely nodding his head and watching silently as Jack carefully closed the locker, clamping down tightly on the emotions that threatened to careen out of control.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam carried her lunch tray over to the table where two of her three team-mates sat, though she knew as soon as she sat down, O’Neill would find some excuse to leave. It had been like that ever since his return, over a week ago. They were still off the duty roster, pending O’Neill’s clearance by Mackenzie. And she seriously wondered how soon that would be, given the way O’Neill was—or wasn’t—responding. She’d been content to spend the time in her lab, but she knew Daniel and Teal’c were eager to get back to exploring and she really didn’t know what the Colonel thought these days. 

 

“Sir, Daniel.” She greeted her friends, smiling at Daniel as he distractedly moved a stack of folders off the table so she could set her tray down. 

 

“Sorry, Sam,” he mumbled through a mouthful of roll. “I was just telling Jack about the ruins SG8 found on P3R-9773.” He picked up a picture carefully by one corner and handed it to her. “If you look real closely you can see—“

 

Sam took the picture and glanced at it briefly before setting it down. “I’ll look at it after I eat.”

 

And then it came, right on cue. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with our friendly neighborhood shrink.” O’Neill stood, took his tray and walked away from the table without once looking her way.

 

Sam sighed and looked at Daniel. “You’re not going to leave too, are you?”

 

“What?” he asked, looking up with a distinctly preoccupied air from his stack of pictures. “Oh, Jack left.”

 

“Again,” she mumbled under breath, poking her fork experimentally into the lump of potatoes on her plate.

 

“Give him some time, Sam.”

 

“What?” she asked, looking at Daniel, who was now gazing at her with understanding in his eyes.

 

“Give him some time, Sam. He was forced to kill you and watch you die.”

 

“It wasn’t his fault, Daniel!”

 

Daniel shrugged. “You and I both know that, and on one level I think Jack knows that too. But he still blames himself.”

 

“He told you this?” she asked skeptically.

 

“He didn’t have to, it’s the way he is.” Daniel’s face took on that far away look that he got sometimes when thinking. “I’ve only seen him this way one other time, on the first Abydos mission.”

 

“Right after his son died,” Sam murmured more to herself than Daniel.

 

He nodded, his expression sober. “He felt responsible for Charlie’s death and he was responsible for your death.”

 

“But I didn’t die.”

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“We’re splitting hairs, Daniel. I may have died, but I’m not dead now.”

 

“I don’t think that matters to Jack, Sam. For all intents and purposes, that Goa’uld used him to kill you.” He gestured with his spoon, the pudding on it almost dropping onto one of his photos, before he popped it into his mouth. “None of us knew that Makepeace and Teal’c were only minutes away from rescuing us, or that Hathor would have a sarcophagus.”

 

“Well, I know it wasn’t his fault, that he had no choice.”

 

“Have you told him that? That you understand?” Daniel put his spoon down and gave her an odd look. “That you forgive him?”

 

She frowned; troubled by Daniel’s words and ended up not really giving him an answer. “How can I Daniel? He hasn’t said one word to me since he came back from the Tok’ra and he leaves as soon as humanly possible whenever we’re in the same room together.”

 

“This is Jack we’re talking about. I never said it would be easy—or make sense.” 

 

Daniel fell silent then, once more absorbed in his papers. Sam ate quietly, contemplating what Daniel had told her and what she knew about O’Neill. She acknowledged that Daniel was partly, if not mostly right, in his assessment. But in her gut she knew there was more to it than he realized; the last words the Goa’uld had whispered in her ear racing endlessly through her mind. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack stuck his head into the briefing room, relieved to find it empty. The walls of his office had started closing in on him and there was one more thing he wanted to do before he left for the day. Hammond’s office was dark, which suited him fine; he’d rather just leave the paperwork on the general’s desk and run. Sitting down, Jack spread out the papers he’d brought with him and started writing.

 

He’d just gotten through the first page when he heard the sound of boots on the metal stairs from the control room. Glancing idly toward them, his gut automatically clenched at the first sight of blonde hair. His first thought was of escape, but then it was too late, because she had seen him.

 

“Colonel,” Sam said briskly, stopping at the far end of the table. “I’ve been looking for you.”

 

Jack pulled his papers together, the last thing he wanted right now was to talk to Carter. “Sorry, Carter,” he said, standing abruptly and clutching his folders. “I was just on my way home.” 

 

“Sir,” she protested, stepping around the table toward him.

 

“Not now, Carter.” Jack brushed by her and in a completely unexpected move, she grabbed his arm. She caught him by surprise and the folders he held went flying onto the floor.

 

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. Jack quickly knelt down, but before he could stop her, she was on the floor beside him, picking up the scattered papers. “I didn’t mean…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at one of the papers she held clutched in her hand. She slowly rose to her feet. Knowing full well what paper she had managed to grab, Jack ignored his protesting knees and stood as well. 

 

“You’re having me transferred?” she finally asked, looking at him with stricken blue eyes.

 

Jack snatched the transfer request out of her hand and jammed it in one of the folders. “Given recent events, I’m asking Hammond to consider a temporary reassignment.”

 

“If I’ve done something…” her voice trailed off and she looked at him, obviously expecting him to say something. 

 

“I will remind you that I don’t have to explain my reasons to you, Captain,” he snapped, putting emphasis on her rank. “Just be assured that I do have them and am making this request for the best of the team.” And for you, he added silently.

 

“The best of the team?”

 

He didn’t say anything, ignoring her and heading toward the door.

 

“Sir,” she caught up with him and stood in the doorway, blocking his way. “I think I deserve a better explanation than that.”

 

God, she was going to make him do this the hard way. Well, he knew one way certain to stop her questions. “I don’t want you on my team anymore. Is that a good enough explanation?”

 

The flash of hurt he saw in her eyes was immediately replaced by a mask of indifference. “I see, sir,” she said stiffly and moved out of his way. “Thank you for being honest with me, sir.”

 

Honest…his gut churned at the word and he felt himself start to weaken. “Sam…” he murmured, but it was too late, the sound of her boot clad feet already ringing against metal and echoing in the quiet of the room as she raced down the stairs.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam stared unseeing at the page of code displayed on her laptop. The normal ease with which she wrote and translated simple programs seemed like so much gibberish to her. She thought immersing herself in her work would help, but she couldn’t concentrate. The sight of her name scrawled in the Colonel’s distinctive handwriting on that transfer request was seared on her retinas. I don’t want you on my team anymore. He couldn’t have been any blunter and it couldn’t have hurt any worse. Dying by the hands of Jareth had caused her less pain than this. She laughed mirthlessly; of course, she’d been too dead to care. Too bad she couldn’t feel any pain now.

 

All she had wanted to do was talk to the Colonel, tell her that she understood, that she forgave him and he blindsided her with something so unexpected, she hadn’t known what to do or say. Except retreat. She frowned, absently closing down the program before she did something stupid like ruin a week’s worth of data entry. She’d retreated, just like he was retreating. Could he really think she blamed him for what had happened while they were prisoners of Hathor? Did he think she didn’t want to work with him anymore and that’s why he was requesting the transfer? It seemed an impossible idea, but the longer she thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.

 

If Daniel was right and the Colonel felt guilty about what had happened, she had to do what she could to alleviate that guilt. And even if he still went ahead with the transfer, at least she’d have told him she didn’t blame him for what had happened. And then an even darker thought occurred to her. The Goa’uld had said that the Colonel loved her. Of course, it could have been lying, but somehow she didn’t think so. On some instinctive level, she recognized the truth in that simple statement. And it scared her at the same time that it thrilled her. If there was any chance that the Goa’uld had been speaking the truth, she

wanted to know—and she wanted to hear it from Jack O’Neill’s mouth.

 

Sam shut off the laptop and prepared to leave. She needed to talk to him tonight, before he had a chance to give Hammond the transfer request. And if after their talk he still wanted her to leave SG-1, she wouldn’t put up a fuss. It was late and she knew she was taking a huge risk by going to his house and bringing this into his territory; but she figured it was also the one place where he couldn’t make a strategic retreat.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack saw her before she saw him, but then he had the advantage of height. And for one brief moment he actually contemplated staying hidden in his rooftop observatory. He could let her think he wasn’t home, wait until she got tired of ringing the doorbell and knocking and left. But if he had learned one thing about Sam Carter over the past two years, it was that she was tenacious. Her unexpected appearance at his home only reinforced that tenacity; a tenacity which he suspected was tinged with no small amount of desperation.

 

He still remained silent and watched her though, the faint light from the closest street light glinting off her blonde hair. He could count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d seen her in anything other than BDU’s or her dress blues. All he could tell from his rooftop perch was that she was dressed casually in jeans and a dark jacket, the collar pulled up no doubt due to the chill in the air. There were no clouds, a perfect night for stargazing, but it also meant it would be a cold night. Even though he didn’t have a jacket on, he wasn’t cold; Jack finished the last swallow of his long-neck, but then he had an edge. He realized he’d lost sight of her once she stepped onto his porch, but then he heard the faint echo of her knock.

 

Silently vaulting down the ladder, he appeared moments later on the porch. “Carter.” She jumped and gasped, whirling around and Jack finally started to feel in control. He’d meant to knock her off guard and was pleased that he had succeeded. 

 

She recovered quickly though and spoke calmly. “Sir. I didn’t realize you were out here.”

 

Jack brushed by her and pushed open the front door, gesturing with his other hand for her to enter. When she hesitated, he could feel the edges of his control start to slip. “For god’s sake, Carter, you’ve made it this far. Come in and say whatever it is you have to say so that we can get this little drama over and done with and I can have some peace and quiet.” 

 

There was just enough light for him to see her mouth tighten and she nodded her head, sidling past him into the dark house. She smelled like leather and the merest hint of sandalwood; his eyes closed as a memory momentarily overwhelmed him, another time when she had smelled of sandalwood and fear. Jack fought back the memory. He wasn’t a captive in his body, helpless and in unending pain; he was Colonel Jack O’Neill and he was in control.

 

He walked through the dark house and on into the kitchen, finally flicking the light on. She followed him a bit more slowly and then stood in the doorway, watching as he opened the refrigerator. Pulling out another beer, he twisted the cap off and took a long swallow, letting the door swing shut. Lounging against the counter, he spoke casually, determined to keep a tight lid on his emotions. “So, let’s hear it.”

 

She frowned, jamming her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “What happened, back on Hathor’s planet, I don’t blame you.”

 

His jaw tightened and he had to force himself to loosen his grip on the beer bottle. He had wanted her to get the point and she had. “You should,” he answered bluntly.

 

“Why would you think that?” she asked, stepping further into the kitchen. “You know that I understand better than anyone what it’s like to have a Goa’uld control you and your actions. You couldn’t control Jareth anymore than I could control Jolinar.”

 

Jack shrugged. “Maybe.”

 

“There’s no maybe about it,” she countered fiercely. “And if you’re having me transferred because you think I blame you or hold you responsible for what happened, then you’re being unfair to me.”

 

“Come on, Carter. You can’t even say the words.” He set the beer bottle down and walked toward her. “I killed you.” He slowly raised his right hand, flexing his fingers. “With one hand I choked the life out of you.” He looked at his hand, barely aware of her now, standing still in front of him, curling his fingers into a fist before letting his hand fall back to his side. “And I enjoyed it.”

 

She made a soft, distressed sound and closed the space between them, her cool hands clutching at his clenched fist. “Jareth enjoyed it,” she murmured urgently, “not you.” Her touch burned him, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “I know that you would never hurt me.”

 

His laugh was bitter and he did pull his hand out of her grasp then. Turning his back on her, her walked over to the counter and braced his hands on the counter, looking out the window at the night sky. “How can you be so sure?” he muttered, more to himself than her.

 

She moved so quietly that he didn’t realize she was behind him until she spoke. “Because I know you.” Her voice was quietly confident and Jack felt some of the knots in his gut start to unwind, but then she shattered his tenuous control. “And because you love me.”

 

Jack couldn’t stop the shudder that coursed through him; his eyes closed in remembered anguish and his head fell down onto his chest. He hadn’t been sure until this moment if that had been a real or imagined memory. The snake had been ruthless in probing his mind, systematically seeking out the best ways to control and punish him. Hathor’s need for revenge had played right into Jareth’s hands, giving the snake the ultimate weapon to use against him.

 

He shuddered again when he felt the light touch of her hand on his arm. “Colonel…Jack…” Her hand moved lightly down his arm, the fine hairs on his neck and arms springing to attention. He squeezed his eyes tight when her fingers closed around his clenched hand and her body pressed up against his. “It’s okay,” she murmured softly, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

 

She was shredding his control, just like the snake had; only this time he wasn’t helpless. Jack turned abruptly and before she could react, pulling her into a tight embrace that eerily resembled those final moments before Jareth had killed her. Sam didn’t fight him, the initial resistance he felt fading as she relaxed, her head falling automatically to his shoulder. He had to give her credit, she didn’t even flinch when he roughly tugged on the collar of her jacket, exposing the elegant line of neck above the v-neck of the pale blue sweater she wore underneath. 

 

The muscles of her throat moved in a convulsive swallow when his large hand lightly encircled her neck. He pressed delicately with his thumb; her pulse fluttered rapidly under his fingers and he realized that he could feel her breathing accelerate, her chest moving against his with each shallow breath. He sensed her fear, felt it beneath his fingers; but when he looked into her eyes, all he saw was acceptance—and love.

 

Jack carefully increased the pressure of his hand around her throat. “You trust me?” he asked casually.

 

Sam’s eyes flashed with understanding and her head moved in a brief nod. “Yes,” she whispered.

 

“With your life?”

 

“Always.”

 

A low groan rumbled up from deep in his chest and he lowered his head. And this time there were no unwanted flashbacks or mocking voice in his head; only the sweet weight of Sam in his arms and then the fresh taste of her lips against his. Her lips trembled beneath his for the briefest of moments and when he felt her soft sigh, he carefully deepened the kiss. One slim arm crept around him and he shifted his stance, pulling her tighter against him.

 

He had felt her mouth beneath his before, her body pressed close to his and the hot throb of passion rushing through his body. But it had never been like this; when they both wanted it and had come together willingly. At least he hoped…. Sliding his mouth off hers, he pulled back. “Sam,” he murmured urgently, his voice hoarse with desire.

 

Hazy blue eyes fluttered open; a slight frown pursed her lips and then she smiled. “What?” she asked, moving her hand and letting her nails graze lightly against his nape. The slight caress almost brought him to his knees, but he forced himself to focus. She had to come to him willingly, he didn’t want to force or even coerce her.

 

Moving the hand that still rested lightly against her throat, Jack ran a gentle finger along her jaw before tangling his fingers in her hair. “I just need to be sure,” he paused, searching her eyes and almost drowning in their deep blue depths, “that you want this.”

 

Her lips curved in a lazy smile and she scored her nails across his nape again. “I want this.”

 

Carefully banked embers deep inside him flared into a conflagration of desire, but Jack fought it down. He was in control…and he would stay in control. “Good,” was all the response he allowed himself. She continued to gaze up at him, her incredible blue eyes communicating a level of trust that both amazed and aroused him. Suddenly nothing mattered except having her—and his kitchen was no place for that. 

 

Moving with swift determination, Jack swung her up in his arms. She curled up in his embrace, looping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his throat. God, it felt so right, he thought, as he swept down the hallway to his bedroom, though he imagined there’d be hell to pay in the morning. But right now, that didn’t matter—nothing mattered except making her his.

 

The rest of the house was dark, but that didn’t bother Jack as he strode purposefully to the bedroom. He had envisioned this moment hundreds of times in his mind; had planned the perfect seduction at the perfect time and in the perfect place. Never would he have imagined that it would happen like this; of course, he also never imagined he would have been used by a Goa’uld to kill her. Love and lust would have been enough before, but he knew some deeper motivation was at work here. If he really hadn’t lost her trust, he would have her demonstrate it in the most basic way possible. 

 

Shoving the bedroom door open with his shoulder, Jack ignored the niggling voice in his brain that reminded him that Sam shouldn’t have to prove anything to him. Her mere presence at his home tonight—and in his arms—should be more than enough to satisfy. But he also acknowledged that something more primal was at work and wouldn’t be satisfied until he had her complete surrender.

 

Laying her gently on the bed, he followed her down, fumbling for the switch on the bedside lamp with one hand while bracing himself over her with the other. Soft light pooled around them and Jack anxiously searched her face for any signs of fear or distress, his anxiety retreating when all he saw was a burning desire he knew reflected what she saw in his eyes. Relaxing fractionally against her, he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a deeply erotic kiss. There was nothing tentative in his touch, Jack boldly took what she freely offered, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with casual assurance.

 

Still braced over her with one arm, Jack tugged at her leather jacket, refusing to release her mouth even as he worked to strip it off her. It was only when she murmured a soft sound of protest did he relent, rearing back on his knees beside her, finally removing the offensive garment. The soft blue sweater was next, flung carelessly onto the floor beside the jacket. He was only mildly surprised to notice his fingers were trembling as he worked the front clasp of her lacy, white bra. 

 

With unexpected care, Jack peeled back the bra, slowly revealing the pale globes. Her dusky pink nipples were already tight and he brushed them simultaneously with his thumbs, pleased when she moaned softly and arched her back into his touch. But he was far from being finished. Once her bra had joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, Jack ignored the lure of her soft flesh and immediately went to work on her jeans. His brain registered the fact that the skin of her belly was smooth and warm beneath his fingers. He cursed briefly when the zipper momentarily stuck, but then it slid free and he hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged both jeans and panties down at the same time.

 

“What the—,” he muttered under his breath, when her clothing got all balled up around her knees. Her response was a husky chuckle that raced along his spine while he fumbled with her loafers and socks, before finally divesting her of the last of her clothing. 

 

Jack sat back on his knees then and drank in the sight before him. Sam didn’t try to hide herself from him, or act all coy or shy, but lay proudly before him. His fingers still trembled when he reached out to lightly trace the line of her breast bone and the soft curve of her belly, but he didn’t worry about it. She moved restlessly beneath the soft touch, her legs shifting and revealing more of her secrets to him. His hand hovered briefly over her soft curls before he let out a low growl and stripped off his clothes.

 

The flare of appreciation in her eyes pleased him, but he didn’t let it distract him from his goal—her complete surrender. Gliding his hand up the smooth expanse of her leg from ankle to knee, he coaxed her legs apart and settled his big body carefully over her. Jack gritted his teeth against the low moan that threatened to escape at the exquisite feel of her naked flesh as her soft body conformed to the hard planes of his. His body screamed for fulfillment but with practiced ease, he ignored the need that coiled low in his gut and concentrated instead on Sam.

 

It was with deliberate precision that he set out to arouse her, using his hands and his mouth to touch…caress…taste. The scent of sandalwood was almost overpowering now, combined with the muskier notes of sexual arousal. He took great care, meticulously noting her response; each shiver, each soft gasp and each breathless plea for more. She trembled and moaned his name whenever he bit and sucked lightly at her neck; she gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders when he kissed her breasts, drawing by turn each nipple into his hot mouth and feasting on her intoxicating taste. 

 

Jack took his time, leisurely working his way down her body before planting a damp trail of kisses across her quivering belly. It took little encouragement for her to bend her knees for him and only the gentlest of pressure to open her fully to his eyes and ultimately his touch. She whimpered his name when he trailed his fingers lightly across her soft folds, pleased to find her damp. 

 

“Shhh…it’s okay,” he soothed, settling between and rearranging her spread legs before applying his considerable skill and determination to the task before him. Her breath drew in sharply at the first touch of his mouth and he allowed himself a brief smile before he continued with the intimate caresses. She shivered and wept beneath his hands and mouth; his name a choked sob when pleasure exploded into ecstasy and she shattered for him and for him alone.

 

When her cries had faded to only the occasional sob, Jack placed one final kiss on her soft flesh and crawled up her still trembling body. “Jack,” she whimpered; her arms wrapped tightly around him and she placed urgent kisses all over his face. Settling his weight down on her, Jack captured her jaw with one hand and kissed her fiercely. Her mouth opened immediately to his demand, her hands stroking up and down his back in almost frantic caresses.

 

“Jack,” she pleaded this time, one slim leg wrapping around his hips, forcing him closer. He groaned, sagging against her when the movement brought his rigid length in contact with her slick folds. He thrust his hips against her, his body automatically seeking what he ached for and she moaned, “Yes,” digging her nails into his back.

 

The desperation in her voice was visceral, satisfying something deep and primal inside of Jack. It hinted at a need that mirrored his own carefully hidden desire. He let her take all his weight, calming her frenetic movements. “Sam,” he murmured, cradling her face between his hands, “look at me.”

 

Blue eyes flew open and he almost lost it there and then; the wild fire of desire in her eyes just that more erotic, given her earlier orgasm. That she still burned for him was obvious and soothed the frayed edges of his soul; her acceptance bringing a certain measure of peace. He was only beginning to realize how much the snake had taken from him. In the dim recesses of his mind he was once more frightened at the power Sam held over him, but right now the lure of watching her come apart in his arms was stronger than his fear. 

 

“Jack…please,” she panted, her hands gliding down his ribcage and further. Quickly grabbing her straying hands, he pinned her wrists to the bed. Sam didn’t protest or struggle; her lips curved in a languid smile that sent shivers down his spine and rotated her hips ever so slightly against his.

 

His eyes narrowed and his fierce look should have frightened her, but didn’t. Instead, her eyes softened and when he felt her strain against his grip, he immediately released her hands. Gentle fingers caressed his cheeks, ran lightly across his lips and then cradled his face. “Love me, Jack,” she whispered.

 

Leaning down, he kissed her deeply, tangling his fingers with hers and once more holding her hands pressed firmly against the mattress. He moved his hips, nudging through her slick folds until he felt her soft flesh give. Her eyes fluttered shut and something like panic filled him. Jack tightened his fingers around hers. “No,” he ground out, “look at me.”

 

She did as he demanded and he locked his gaze with hers, never once looking away as he slowly pushed his way into her willing body. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as she panted softly; he could feel the fine tension in her body and the way her internal muscles quivered as she strived to adjust to his invading length. And she never looked away. The intimacy of what was happening between them was so intense, he almost closed his eyes. But he didn’t; her quiet vulnerability gave him strength. With one powerful movement, Jack thrust deep, taking her completely. Her soft cry tore through him even as she tightened around him and he groaned, lowering his head to her shoulder.

 

Jack closed his eyes then and let instinct take over, his body knew what it needed and he was past fighting his need. Slowly at first, but then with increasing confidence, he moved within her. Her breath hitched with each inward thrust and he released one of her hands, coaxing her legs higher around him. Cradled within her welcoming warmth, Jack dimly realized it wouldn’t be long before he succumbed to the insistent pull of her body around him. 

 

Releasing one of her hands, he shifted, feathering his hand between their joined bodies and seeking out her clitoris. She gasped sharply, her eyes widened and he smiled, stroking her firmly. Confident in his ability—and her apparently helpless response to him—it wasn’t long before Jack felt the first stirrings of her release. She held him enthralled and he watched her this time, absorbing every changing nuance of her expression as she surrendered to the inevitable. 

 

And she never looked away, letting him witness her total vulnerability in his arms. Part of him acknowledged that he’d been witness to this with other women, had shared in their passion and taken his in return. But this time it was different…this woman was different. That would she would still trust him after everything that had happened burned through his heart with the force of a staff weapon blast.

 

Only when her soft cries had faded into quiet sighs and her trembling body relaxed beneath his, did Jack allow himself the luxury of physical release. The last remnants of her orgasm tugged at him and with a harsh groan, he buried himself deep inside her soft body, filling her with his seed. Burying his face in her shoulder, he gritted his teeth and fought the ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm him. He could allow himself to make love to her, but the mere thought of losing himself in her filled him with terror that was only rivaled by the memory of the feel of her fragile neck beneath his hands as she died.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam carefully rolled over and slipped out from beneath Jack’s restraining arm. The red glow of the digital clock read 12:10. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to orient herself in the dark room. Making out the darker shape of what she hoped was a doorway; she cautiously rose and crossed the short distance, thankful when it was indeed a door and the bathroom. Quietly closing the door behind her, she fumbled for the light switch, blinking furiously when the bright light filled the room. 

 

Using the facilities, she washed her face and hands—and other body parts. When she was finished, she leaned her hands on the counter and stared at the woman in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and she looked around for a comb, finally finding one in a drawer. It helped a little with her appearance. She idly rubbed her fingers along a reddened area on her throat; there were some things she wasn’t going to be able to disguise. 

 

But right now, she had bigger problems. Like what to do. She was totally out of her depth here. The last thing she’d expected was to end up in Jack’s bed. Straighten out the matter of her transfer, yes; and try to make him understand she didn’t blame him for what had happened. She never imagined that ‘understanding’ would take the form it had. And she had no one to blame but herself. He’d given her the opportunity to say no, but she hadn’t. She had wanted him and had taken advantage of his vulnerability. She smiled wryly. He probably wouldn’t see it that way, he had been carefully controlled the whole time he’d made love to her. It had been very apparent that it was okay for her to lose control in his arms but there was no way Jack O’Neill was going to show that kind of weakness. 

 

So how was it that she had come here to fight for her position on his team and instead found herself fighting for her position in his life? He hadn’t denied that he loved her—but then he hadn’t admitted it either. Did she love him? She suspected she had always loved him. Some time during the past two years, the antagonism between them had turned into a mutual respect and, slowly but surely, had developed into something deeper. She liked him, respected him, he made her laugh and she enjoyed spending time with him. Of course, she could say the same things for Daniel and Teal’c. But neither of them set the butterflies to wing in her stomach with a mere smile or look. Nor did she spend time fantasizing about kissing either of her other two team mates, only Jack. 

 

As for the spending time together, granted, most of it was work time, but if she thought about it, she had already spent more time with him than she had with anyone she’d ever dated, and that included her one and only fiancé. When Jack was in trouble, she had discovered she would do anything to help him and when she had thought he was dead, hadn’t she’d died a little herself? Perhaps the answer to whether she loved him lay in what had just happened between them. She trusted him with her life; and no matter how fond she was of Teal’c or Daniel, she wouldn’t have had sex with either one of them to prove her trust—or her love.

 

Sam gave her reflection one last faint smile; her midnight pep talk would have to be enough to get her through whatever happened next, because the last thing she was going to do now was leave. Flicking the light off, she let her eyes adjust briefly to the dark before opening the bathroom door and slipping out. She stood for a moment in the doorway, getting her bearings, when his voice rumbled out of darkness.

 

“Are you leaving?”

 

Padding across the darkened room, she stood at the side of the bed and gazed down at him. She couldn’t see his face, but she suspected the casual indifference in his voice was anything but casual—or indifferent. But this was his choice. 

 

“Only if you want me to.” The words fell into the silent room and she held her breath, waiting for his answer. And though she knew it was only moments, it seemed like an eternity before he gave her his answer, pulling the covers back in obvious invitation. Relief flooded through her and she slipped back into the warm bed. He pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against his side, resting her head on his chest. And then in the quiet darkness of the bedroom, she started to talk.

 

“I remember how I felt after Jolinar.” The hand lightly stroking her hair paused briefly and she wondered if she was pushing him too much, when she felt it start to move again, she continued. “How I felt about what she tried to do to the people I care about.” Sam shivered the slightest bit and felt his arms tighten around her. “How she terrorized Cassie, would have killed you, and Daniel and Teal’c, in her bid to escape. And how she felt absolutely no remorse for her actions.”

 

She chose her next words carefully, because she suspected they would strike close to home for Jack. “And I remember how helpless I felt. I couldn’t control anything that was happening to me.” Rising up on one elbow, she gazed down at him in the dark; the hand in her hair trailed lightly down her back. “But Cassie forgave me and eventually everyone understood.”

 

“What are you trying to say, Sam?”

 

She smiled gently, how typical of him to cut right to the point. “That I forgive you—and that I understand the need for control.”

 

He didn’t say anything and Sam tried to read his expression, but it was too dark and when he didn’t demand that she leave, she lay back down. He kept his arms around her and she closed her eyes, preparing to drift off to sleep when he spoke.

 

“When I thought you were dead.” Jack’s arms tightened around her, and then as if with conscious effort, they relaxed again. “When I thought I had killed you,” he amended, “my life wasn’t worth living. Nothing that snake could have done to me from that moment forward would have been able to hurt me more than seeing you die.” His chest rose on a deep breath. “I was dead inside. And then I woke up on Vorash and found out I wasn’t dead, but you were still dead, so nothing mattered.” The pain and regret in voice brought tears to her eyes and she murmured something soothing, rubbing her cheek lightly against his chest.

 

“When I saw you, that day, in Hammond’s office, it was like I had been given my life back again. But it was only half a life, because I knew the moment I looked into your eyes I would see hate and fear.” He laughed bitterly. “So I might as well have been dead because nothing else would have mattered if you hated me.”

 

“I don’t hate you.” 

 

Jack shifted abruptly, looming over her and the bedside lamp sprang to life. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment at the bright light and then she looked up at him. His dark eyes were intense and just the slightest bit unsure as he gazed down at her. He brushed her bangs back off her forehead, his large hand cradling her cheek. “But do you love me?”

 

That casual, off-hand tone was back in his voice, as if he didn’t care one way or the other whether she did or not, but he couldn’t fool her. “I think I’ve loved you for a very long time,” she admitted.

 

“Then I guess we’re even,” he murmured, a slight smile twitching at his lips.

 

“Perhaps,” she countered. At his puzzled look, she merely smiled and then deliberately stretched, accentuating the fine line of her throat, her breasts. His eyes narrowed and she saw a flash of burning desire darken his eyes before he banked it down, and in that moment Sam knew what she needed to do.

 

Looping her arms around his neck, she only had to exert minimal pressure before he willingly lowered his head, their lips meeting in a leisurely kiss. She opened her mouth immediately to his questing tongue, but this time she took the initiative; stroking along his teeth, tangling her tongue with his. All of which he seemed to enjoy, his enthusiastic response all she had hoped for. Eventually he pulled his mouth away and started placing hot, wet kisses down her throat, his hands lightly stroking her ribs, her breasts. And while she loved the feel of his mouth and his hands on her body, she couldn’t deny the need that burned inside her to make love to him.

 

The uncertainty that still lingered in his words and voice, the pain she could still sense when he spoke of her death and his conviction that she would not be able to forgive him all fueled her actions. He may have been satisfied that she proved her trust in him by allowing him into her body, but she wouldn’t be satisfied until he accepted that he had never lost her trust...or her love. Before his caresses could carry her any deeper, she pushed lightly on his chest and started to move. Jack followed her lead and rolled to his back and she rolled with him, nestling on top of him.

 

He lay relaxed beneath her, though she could sense the tightly leashed strength inherent in his lean body. She wriggled experimentally, enjoying the varied textures of his warm skin. The firm muscles, the shiver-inducing brush of the fine hairs on his legs and chest against her smoother skin, not to mention the firm press of his growing erection against her belly. It was intoxicating and she let it flow through her like the finest of wines, savoring the myriad of sensations. 

 

Framing his face with her hands, she kissed him, pouring all her heart and longing into the melding of their mouths. It didn’t feel any different than their earlier kisses, his lips were firm and hot beneath hers, his teeth smooth, his tongue rough as she leisurely explored his mouth. But it was different…. She sighed into his mouth. The enormity of what had happened and what lay ahead seemed inconsequential; the revelation filtered through her consciousness and slowly unfurled inside her, nourished by the strength of her feelings for him. Her life had undergone a sea change in those moments that she had lain suspended between life and death, a change that she hadn’t totally understood until he had held her in his arms again, with his hand splayed across her throat and—in that maddeningly arrogant way of his—demanded her trust and her acceptance.

 

Whatever doubts she had regarding her love or feelings for him faded. This was her Jack, as human and fallible as the rest of the world, and right now she wanted nothing more than to sink into him so far and deep that she never resurfaced. Sam resumed her seduction with serious intent; worshiping him with her mouth and body. Gliding her mouth along his slightly hair-roughened jaw, she tugged at his ear lobe while her hands stroked lightly along his ribs.

 

Large hands reached for her, but she caught his wrists in a light—but firm—grip; forcing his hands back against the mattress, unconsciously imitating his earlier action. A low growl rumbled up from low in his chest and Sam thought for a brief moment that he was going to fight her, but then he relaxed. “Good boy,” she leaned back down and whispered in his ear, letting her breasts brush lightly against his chest. He groaned, his body shuddering against hers and she smiled, wetly tracing her tongue along the whorls of his ear.

 

Warming to the task, Sam kept his wrists manacled in a light grip and shifted, kissing her way down his chest. Nuzzling her nose in the nest of graying hairs, she trailed her lips lightly across his warm muscles, spending all too brief moments teasing his nipples the same way he had teased hers. That he appreciated it was in no doubt, the low murmurs of approval and rapid beat of his heart beneath her mouth all fueling her efforts. Not that she needed much encouragement; to finally have the freedom to kiss him…touch him…to make love to him were all the most potent of aphrodisiacs.

 

Working her way down his flat abdomen, she slithered down his body, smoothing her cheek across his warm skin before pressing soft kisses along the soft crease that led to her ultimate destination. His rigid length bumped against her cheek and she moaned softly, finally releasing his wrists. There was no hesitation now, she grasped his erection and ran her tongue from base to tip. His throttled groan was music to her ears; one large hand coming to rest lightly on her head as she continued to stroke and caress him. 

 

It was exhilarating and she reveled in the freedom of the intimate caresses. Only in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined being allowed this liberty and while it was wildly erotic, the ache deep in her belly would only be satisfied by one thing. Placing one final kiss on the tumescent head, she rose to her knees over him. Dark brown eyes, hooded and burning with desire, looked up at her; his strong hands came to rest with surprising gentleness at her waist. Her breath caught and her heart tightened almost painfully, the mix of apprehension and desire in his eyes her undoing. 

 

“I love you,” she murmured in helpless response, giving voice to what was in her heart. His eyes flared with a satisfaction so primal that she felt a small thrill of purely feminine alarm. And it had nothing to do with what had happened between them at the hands of Hathor and everything to do with the force of emotions binding them together. Sam slowly sank down on him, dimly realizing that there was no turning back now. She’d had her opportunity to leave earlier, when she could have still walked away with her heart intact. 

 

Oh god, it was even more intense than before, if that was even possible. The connection she felt with him was even stronger this time, filling a void inside of her she hadn’t even realized was there until now, with him pulsing and throbbing inside of her. With a soft sob, she took him fully, settling her weight on him. The sense of completeness Sam felt as she took him into her body was the only right thing that had happened in a very long time. And then she couldn’t think any longer, the lure of his strong body pulling at her. 

 

Other times and other lovers faded; it was as if she had been born anew from the sarcophagus and her life was starting with this night…with this moment...with him. She moved slowly at first, savoring each and every sensation. And he helped her; the subtle pressure of his hands he helped guide her and the synchronous movement of his hips against hers all fueled a passion that couldn’t be denied. 

 

Sam gasped softly with each breath, bracing her hands on his shoulders, her movements becoming more desperate with each passing moment. But as much as she craved release, she needed his pleasure more. Focusing on Jack, she was pleased with his low moan when she flexed her internal muscles around his rigid length. 

 

One of his hands made a tentative movement down her hip. “Let me help you,” he rumbled, his eyes dark with need.

 

“No,” she moaned, repeating the intimate caress. “This is for you.”

 

“Not without you,” he countered hoarsely, feathering his fingers with unerring accuracy across her quivering belly and through her swollen folds.

 

She could have protested and forced his hand away, a seemingly inconsequential action in the grand scheme of things, but she didn’t. It was his nature to lead, to take command, and she didn’t begrudge him that need, not now. He’d had enough control taken from him and she wasn’t going to add to the injury just to satisfy her selfish whim. Sam shivered and faltered slightly in her rhythm when his fingers found and massaged the sensitive nubbin. 

 

Regaining her concentration took longer than she liked, the sweet pressure of his fingers distracting her for precious moments, but before long she had regained her previous tempo and moved in synchrony with his touch. Ever attuned to the slightest change in his expression and in his touch, she moved easily with him and for him. She was so close, she could feel the burn start in her thighs and slowly expand, the exquisite pressure coiling low in her belly as she rocked against him.

 

Sam could sense the tight control Jack still kept on his response, but she stopped worrying about it. It was enough right now that they were together and she could wait. But there was one thing that wouldn’t wait any longer and that was her helpless reaction to him. Sensation grew and coalesced into a force that would not be denied and she surrendered to its power. With a soft cry, she ground her pelvis against his caressing hand, sinking onto him as deeply as she could. Wild pleasure flowed through her and she collapsed on him; his strong arms closed around her and held her tight as she shuddered endlessly in his embrace. 

 

Random shivers of delight still cascaded through her when she felt his muscles tense beneath her and then his low rumble in her ear, “Hang on.” She did so, just barely finding the energy to cling to his shoulders as he effortlessly rolled and pinned her beneath him. Sam moved with him, whimpering softly when he draped her legs over his arms and settled more fully on her. His lips brushed hers briefly. “Okay?” he whispered. 

 

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled languidly. “Yes,” she murmured, raking her nails along his nape. 

 

“Good,” he growled and her breath caught on a small gasp when he moved his hips sharply against hers. His smile was fierce as he gazed down at her and started to thrust heavily into her. Sam moved with him as best she could; though there was little she could do but cling to his shoulders and let him find his release. His muscles flexed and bunched beneath her hands and she sensed the carefully controlled restraint he used as he moved within her. 

 

“It’s okay,” she murmured urgently, “it’s okay.” Sam didn’t know if he actually needed her permission or if he finally reached his breaking point, but something in him gave. His eyes flared with something wild and primitive, a low growl rumbling up from his chest. When her legs were suddenly released, she automatically wrapped them around his lean hips. With another throttled groan, he dropped his head to her shoulder and she finally realized the full extent of his self control.

 

She was totally surrounded and engulfed by him; it felt if he was trying to meld his body into hers. It was terrifying and exhilarating, to be the focus of all that primal, male energy. Sam held him tightly, cradling him with her arms and legs, accepting the unrestrained passion with tender love. His big body moved steadily against hers for several more minutes, the whole bed shaking now, before she felt his rhythm falter. Gliding her hands down his back to his ass, she cried out softly, rising up to meet him when he thrust deep, his hips jerking against hers as she felt the hot wash of his seed filling her. 

 

Jack’s low groan of pleasure sounded softly in her ear, his body continuing to shudder against her, the pulses of his release flowing endlessly through him and into her. Sam savored every moment; a fierce protectiveness filled her, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for this man and she would defend him as zealously as a lioness defending her cub. She smiled and kissed his sweaty shoulder, stroking her fingers soothingly through his hair, not that she had any maternal thoughts regarding him.

 

Sam slowly let her legs relax, shifting subtly beneath him until she finally found a more comfortable position. He mumbled something unintelligible in her ear, his body settling more heavily on hers and she sighed softly, closing her eyes and holding him. She didn’t know how much time passed, but then it didn’t really matter. It was enough, that they were together. All too soon she felt him stir and when he shifted, she tightened her arms around him, not ready to lose the intimacy.

 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, echoing her earlier words to him, and she relaxed, though she couldn’t stop the soft whimper when he withdrew from her and slid to her side. There was a rustling of bed clothes and the light went out before he lay back down. Sam immediately nestled into his embrace and rested her head on his chest. She shivered slightly in spite of the heat emanating off him and the warmth of the covers and his arms tightened around her. 

 

“Jack,” she murmured drowsily, not sure if she wanted to offer reassurance or if she needed reassurance. 

 

“It’s okay,” he repeated and started stroking her hair. “Go to sleep.”

 

Amazingly enough that was the reassurance she needed. She knew there were still issues that needed to be resolved between them, but that could wait until morning. Right now it would have to be enough that she was still in his bed—and his life.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Jack woke, he was alone. It was still early, only the faintest hint of dawn peeking through the blinds. He wondered when she had left, vaguely disturbed that he would have slept through her departure. After the second time they’d made love, he’d slept more soundly than he had since he’d woken from his endless nightmare at the Tok’ra base. And right now he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that she had left. 

 

Climbing out from between rumpled sheets that still smelled like her, Jack staggered to the bathroom before pulling on an old pair of sweat pants and Air Force T-shirt. A quick look in the mirror over the dresser told him he still looked like hell, his hair standing on end, even though he felt more rested than he had in weeks. He wished she was still here.

 

Coffee, he needed coffee. His house still seemed vaguely unfamiliar and he wondered how soon it would be before he truly felt like himself. Shit, no wonder Sam had left, she could probably still sense the snake left inside him, just like he could. Which was why he was so taken by surprise when he saw her in his kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee into a Minnesota: Land of Ten Thousand Lakes mug. She didn’t say anything, merely handed him the mug and opened the cupboard, this time pulling out one that proclaimed Colorful Colorado. She looked cool and beautiful, even dressed in the same clothes that had spent the night in a heap on the floor. But when he looked closer, he could see the fine lines of tension around her mouth and the wariness in her eyes.

 

He cradled the mug in his hands. “You should have left.”

 

“I couldn’t,” she answered, her voice calm as she poured coffee into the second mug.

 

“I’m still going to give Hammond that transfer request.”

 

Her eyes flashed to his, the wariness now mixed with a cautious hope. “It’s probably for the best,” she agreed.

 

Jack set his coffee mug down on the counter, taking the Colorado one out of her unresisting hand. Placing his hands on her waist, he worked them under her sweater until he could feel her warm skin, his fingers flexing lightly. “I don’t know how this is all going to end, Sam.” He felt he had to warn her, even though he already knew she wouldn’t listen.

 

“No one ever does, Jack.” She looped her arms around his neck, shuffling closer until he wrapped his arms around her. 

 

He took a deep breath, burying his face in her hair. He so did not deserve the chance she was giving him. Pulling back slightly, he looked at her, caressing her cheek and still wondering what he had done to deserve her forgiveness and love. “I’m not the easiest man to get along with, even without a snake in my head.”

 

A smile curved her lips and she arched an eyebrow. “I’ve had two years of practice,” she reminded him.

 

“So you have,” he agreed. Letting his hand rest lightly on her throat, he cocked his head. “I can think of one thing you haven’t had a lot of practice with.”

 

“Can you now?” she drawled. Jack sucked in a quick breath when she punctuated her comment with a subtle roll of her hips against him. “Are you saying I need more practice?”

 

Jack grinned, not fighting the rush of arousal that ran through him. Lowering his head, he just brushed his lips against hers, “Years.”

 

THE END


End file.
